


Unbreakable

by primalrage



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Aftercare, Choking, Impact Play, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Masochism, Painful Sex, Painplay, Physical Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, S&M, Sadism, Spoilers, Verbal Sex, Violent Sex, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primalrage/pseuds/primalrage
Summary: Dojima narrowed his eyes at Adachi and bent to grab his tie, jerking him closer. "Is everyone so easily manipulated, Adachi, or is it just me?"Adachi thought he was grinning, but he couldn't feel half of his face, so there was no way to be sure. "Depends on who you ask, I guess, sir. I think it may just be you."
Relationships: Adachi Tohru/Dojima Ryotaro
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Unbreakable

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that, while you absolutely do not have to have played Persona 4 Arena Ultimax in order to read and understand this fic, it does take place after Adachi's epilogue and builds off of some Adachi-related spoilers from that game. This also completely spoils the climax of Persona 4 itself, so if you're poking around the Persona 4 tag without having completed the game, this is absolutely not where you want to start!
> 
> It's also important to note that I don't know anything about criminal law in Japan, and I don't pretend for even a second that this is realistic LOL we're all just here for the porn, right?
> 
> Anyway thanks everyone :3

Adachi had been sure that it was game over for him. He had accepted his fate and was cooperating with police and lawyers hoping that, by cooperating, he might avoid the death penalty. It turned out that he didn't want to die. This was surprising for him. Somehow, in spite of everything, he wanted to keep on living. 

But the court failed to build a case against him. The whole situation was too fantastic. No one believed in the TV world, in the midnight channel, in persona. It didn't help that so many members of the local Inaba police spoke on his behalf as character witnesses, that his psychologists all considered him a model prisoner, that there actually wasn't a single piece of evidence against him, and that Namatame was... well, he was Namatame. Or maybe all of that did help, depending on how he looked at it. _How could Adachi have done it_? they all asked themselves. _He was working at that hour_ or _we have security footage of him entering Junes that night_ or _the window of time to get from point A to point B is impossible._ No one ever accepted the TV world as a valid answer for any of their questions. 

Because the court had no real case, the system was eventually forced to release Adachi back into the world. He was actually disappointed. He wanted to beg to be incarcerated. Then one day, with his release impending and his mood at its worst, Dojima had come for one of their routine visits. He came more and more often now, and Adachi found that he looked forward to seeing his former boss. Dojima filled him in on everything from Nanako's grades to the stats of their favorite sports teams, and it was always a more cordial, warm conversation that they had ever had before Adachi's arrest. That day, though, he was acting a little different - distracted, maybe anxious even. It wasn't the Dojima that Adachi was familiar with. 

"What's on your mind, Dojima-san?" 

Dojima ran a hand over his stubbled chin and said, "I've been talking to Nanako. If you end up being released and need help getting back on your feet, you're welcome to come live with us."

It felt strange. He would go to Dojima-san's house, he'd sit at his kotatsu and watch Junes commercials with Nanako-chan. He'd watch Dojima-san drink, pass out on the couch before he brought him upstairs to bed... just like old times. But without the fake personalities, without the fake Adachi.

So here he was, just a few months later, taking his first breaths of fresh air as a free man. He didn’t smoke. He’d always carried a lighter around for Dojima’s sake, but today, as he stood there on the curb, waiting for his old boss to pick him up, he was honestly considering trying it. The world felt new, but he was already bored, already wondering if a life on the outside, without his job, without his gun, if any of it would be more thrilling than living in a cell, occasionally passing petty threats to other prisoners just to get a rise out of them, coaxing a bunch of oversized morons to fight one another over the last secret cigarette or extra pudding…

Dojima was late. Maybe Adachi would give him shit for it. It wasn’t like he worked under him anymore, though he supposed he couldn’t be too harsh on him regardless, since he was staying in his home for a while. His apartment was likely long gone, all of his things auctioned off by his landlord… or more than likely, just thrown in the garbage. He hadn't owned much worth selling. Maybe Dojima saved some of it. That was just like Dojima. So damn soft, despite how tough he tried to be on the outside. Would he splash hot coffee in Adachi's face ever again? Beat him over the head for saying the wrong thing? For letting out just a little too much information? Adachi enjoyed the friendship with Dojima that had blossomed while he was in prison, but he feared that he might miss the way things had been before. 

“Haa, come on, Dojima-san.” He groaned, tapping his heel on the curb as he waited. No, he’d definitely give him shit for it. It wasn’t like he could pretend to be stupid and naïve anymore. Dojima knew his true colours. Dojima knew who he really was.

Wouldn't it be hilarious if he just never showed up? If it had all been a sick joke? That was the kind of thing Adachi would pull, not Dojima. But just as he was thinking this, Dojima's car came to a stop in front of him. Dojima hopped out and rushed at him with his arms extended for a hug. Adachi settled into Dojima's embrace, though he had no idea _why_ he accepted it so easily. They'd seen each other often - gentle stares past dirty glass, tiny jokes over cups of stale water, small talk accompanied by pained smiles and hesitant laughter. Still, it was his first human contact in years. He hadn't known how weak he had become in that time until Dojima's arms locked around him. He melted against the other man's chest and found himself smiling. This truly was a bond that could not be severed. 

Had their bond developed while Adachi was in prison? Or had the bond always existed, and Adachi had been too bored before to notice it? That boredom, it had been why he'd done it all in the first place. He liked to think back on it sometimes, liked to recall a time when he was the king of a dead world, the king of a world teetering on the edge of complete destruction by a forgotten goddess. He'd watched from the shadows as Namatame played the game, a game that Adachi ruled over, a game that Adachi had began all on his own. But he was no one again. No, he was someone _to Dojima_ , which really still made him no one at all. Silly little Dojima-san, a worthless ant in the grand scheme of things, a nobody who had nothing and never really would. Adachi supposed they both had nothing but each other now, but maybe that was alright.

How long would the hugging phase last? Would Dojima be spilling coffee in his face by the next morning? Or would Adachi be stuck with this Dojima who was gentle with him, who perhaps secretly feared him, who only forgave him because Adachi wasn't completely evil. Not 100% evil. Maybe a good 96%? Adachi had saved the kids. He knew that was the whole reason Dojima had forgiven him. So how much did that count for? Were his crimes negated by his single act of complete selflessness? 

Dojima _finally_ released him, and Adachi laughed, "Hah, it's funny, huh? No more glass. No more specially timed visits."

"Yep. How does it feel to be a free man?" Dojima asked. He reached up and dropped a hand on Adachi's head, ruffling his hair, "You look like shit."

Adachi fought the urge to roll his eyes. He moved around to the passenger's side and opened he car door, flinging himself into the seat. "Hey. I'm hungry. Hope you got something to feed me with at home, or I'm going to lose my mind. Or is poor little Nanako-chan at home cooking for me?"

Dojima dropped into his own seat behind the wheel, trying to think of how to respond to that. He could tell that Adachi was trying to piss him off already, and they hadn't even been together twenty seconds yet. Had this been a mistake? As his hands gripped the steering wheel he took a deep breath. "You're going to lose your mind, huh? Going to try and murder me if I don't have a seven course dinner laid out for you at home? You gonna push me into the TV too, if I don't pamper you? If I lay a hand on you again?"

He threw the car into drive and headed in the direction of the house, wondering if, after all this time of trying not to talk about this, it was wise to bring it up now. Should he be afraid? Would Adachi be dangerous around Nanako? But he couldn't help but think of how much Nanako adored him; how badly his disappearance from her life had shaken her. How could Adachi ever hurt her? They'd spent countless hours in each other's company, sometimes alone while Dojima slept in a drunken stupor in the next room. Adachi had so many opportunities to hurt the girl, and he never had. Dojima thought about issuing a threat, but the idea of saying it out loud meant that he thought it was possible, and if he thought it was possible then how dare he put Nanako in that danger? The only way this would work was if he trusted Adachi. 

"No, but I might spill your coffee in your lap tomorrow morning." Adachi replied, staring straight ahead out the windshield. It felt so strange to talk to Dojima about that sort of thing, to hear him bring up the TV murders and all the terrible things he had done. "Plus, I don't think you'd fit inside of your TV very well. Maybe we could make a quick run to Junes and get a bigger screen."

"If you spill coffee on me now I'll know it's on purpose and I'll beat your face in." Dojima gave Adachi a sideways glare. All of the clumsy shit fucking up his cases had been an act. He knew it now. "You were doing it on purpose then, too. Why? You knew it was pissing me off. You knew I'd hit you. Were you so devoted to your lies?"

"It killed the monotony of my life, I guess." Adachi admitted, "I was doing it all on purpose. You should have known that, too. If you'd looked deeper into my files... I mean, you can't have been completely unaware of how highly I was paid back in the city, right? Before I moved to Inaba? You have to know that I wasn't a rookie, not really. I graduated top in my class, I was given a high rank right off the bat. But boredom struck, and I did some stupid things."

"I guess I could have looked into that some more. Been a real detective. I guess I just liked thinking of you as some punk ass kid."

Adachi smiled and shook his head with a heavy sigh, leaning cheek against the cool window. It was stupid... A lot of things could have probably been avoided if Dojima had known his past. "Hell, I don't know. Maybe they hid all that crap from you. They wanted to get rid of me pretty badly," he muttered. It wasn't something he liked to talk about. They were all idiots at the precinct, anyway. Everyone in the world was. No one understood him. Well, maybe Dojima did sometimes.

"You could have played some horrible pranks on me," Dojima said, shaking his head.

Adachi shrugged, "I could have left your ass somewhere, and you would have been too blackout drunk for you to remember how you got there or how to get home. I could have gotten away with it every time."

"I deserved it sometimes, for hitting you. I know I have a problem. I've been trying to work on my anger issues. If you can change, then so can I."

"You can still hit me. Maybe I kind of liked that in some strange way. It made me feel like I was still living." Adachi stared out the window, at all the streets and places and people they passed. He thought that he should be glad to be seeing these things again, after so long behind bars, but the world meant nothing to him. 

"Don't do anything stupid again, Adachi," Dojima said, quiet and tense, "I don't want to lose you again. Visits to a glass wall just aren't the same, you know? I don't mean to get sappy or anything. Just... I hope you stick around this time. If you get bored again just let me know, and I'll beat some sense into that thick head of yours."

"I get bored a lot." Adachi replied with a shrug of his shoulders, though part of him, some strange masochistic part of him, was unsettled at the prospect of Dojima never getting rough with him again. _That_ had always made things interesting. People back in the city, the higher-ups, they never laid a hand on him, not physically. But ol' Dojima-san certainly never held back. "So you'll _probably_ have to beat some sense into me a lot. But hey, whatever keeps me out of jail, huh? Haa ~ I'm a stupid guy. Sometimes I need a hard nudge in the right direction." To emulate the idea, he punched his fist good and hard right into Dojima's arm. 

Dojima jerked away from him. " _Hey!_ Are you trying to instigate me? You don't make any fucking sense. You liked being treated like an idiot all that time? You liked being kicked around?" He didn't doubt for a second that Adachi was smarter than he ever realized. In fact, Adachi was probably a hell of a lot cleverer than him, and that fact scared him a little. Adachi had always been at least one step ahead of everyone. That made him more than clever, actually - that made him a genius, and a very dangerous one. "I'm not as sharp as you are, Adachi. No point in pretending about that anymore. So if you're trying to make a point, then just say it, because I'm having trouble following you."

"If you don't get it, I'm not going to spell it out for you. I never spelled it out for your nephew and his friends, and they still got to the truth in the end. Are you saying you're stupider than a bunch of idiot kids?" Adachi teased him, flashing him a grin. He'd never in his life spoken so freely to Dojima, but he liked it. Dojima didn't even know how to handle this, did he? He was so funny. 

" _What?_ "

"Hah, I'm probably freaking you out, huh? I can try and go back to acting like rookie Adachi if you like. You did most of the talking when I was in jail, but I figured you would have picked up on this side of me regardless," He laughed, turning in his seat to look over at Dojima beside him. The seatbelt cut into his shoulder, "Sorry, I guess. I'm still confusing you, aren't I? I guess a part of me _did_ like it when you kicked me around. Though maybe next time, if there is a next time, I'll kick you around right back."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said, "but I can promise I kick harder than you. Don't underestimate me. I'm surprised you think so little of me."

Dojima sounded mad and looked mad, but he was smiling a little, and Adachi could tell the game was still on. "Hah, well... maybe we can see who really kicks harder sometime. I'm sure I'll give you good reason sooner or later," he said, flashing Dojima a smile that felt a little too much like flirting for Adachi to maintain it very long. Admittedly, there were many times he'd thought about things like that, about _Dojima_ like that. Throughout his stay in prison, those thoughts had kept him entertained at night, but he didn't need that now, right? So, why was he even thinking about it anymore?  
  
"You're a crazy bastard." Dojima reached across the car and flicked Adachi in the temple. 

" _Ouch,_ Dojima-san!" Adachi whined, flinging a hand up to rub his sore head. He was smiling, though. 

"You said you were hungry?" Dojima said, "Let's stop and get you your first meal as a free man. Any requests?" 

Adachi threw his feet up onto the dashboard. "Anything but cabbage." 

* * *

Two hours and a huge lunch later, Dojima turned into the carport beside his house. He had not even switched off the engine before Adachi threw open his door and leaped out. He stared up at the building with his hands in his pockets, grinning. It was the most beloved place in the world for Dojima, and now he would be harboring a criminal there. Adachi could only imagine the scandal if the neighbors found out. "Where am I sleeping, by the way?"

"You'll have the upstairs to yourself." Dojima circled the car and clasped the younger man on the shoulder.

"Aw, but what about your darling nephew?" Adachi asked.

"He's not in town right now. If he shows up, well... we'll figure that out when we get to that," Dojima said, "Not to be a sap, Adachi, but I'm glad you're home. Someone's gotta keep an eye on you." He gave Adachi a friendly hit upside the head, just for old time's sake, and then he started the walk to the front door. 

It was strange, but Adachi savored the flicker of pain in the back of his head. He stumbled forwards, rubbing his scalp and passing Dojima a smile. "I'm kinda glad I'm home too, Dojima-san..." 

Dojima unlocked the front door and the pair stepped inside, kicking off their shoes and sliding on their slippers before entering. The place seemed empty for the moment, or at least the living room and kitchen were. Adachi wondered if Nanako would be happy to see him. Maybe he could have brought her a gift or... something. Hell, who was he kidding? That prison hadn't had a _gift shop_. What the fuck would he have gotten her?

"I need some clothes and a shower. A shower would be incredible. I don't suppose you picked up any of my things from my place before the landlord claimed it all, huh?" 

"Actually... heh..."  
  
Dojima disappeared down the dark hallway and into his bedroom. He emerged seconds later carrying two cardboard boxes - one stacked on top of each other - in his arms. Their contents rattled together as he set them down on the kitchen table.

Adachi could have kissed him. "Oh, Dojima-san, you've always been so thoughtful ~ " He opened both of the boxes, and right on the top of the contents of one of them was a stash of dirty magazines and sex toys. He shut the lid.

"I didn't touch anything. I promise," Dojima muttered. He was staring off across the kitchen, pretending that he had not seen. It was a lie. The night he had brought those things home, that fleshlight had been calling to him like a siren of mythology. He had barely been able to sleep for the allure of its voice. As soon as Nanako had gone off to school the next morning, he had pulled it out of the box and taken it into the bath with him. It hadn't even mattered to him that Adachi's old cum was still dried up and sticky inside of it. In fact, that had made it almost better. After years of chastely mourning his wife, his release had been so intense that he'd felt like shit afterwards and had almost called out of work that day. He had tried to put it back into the box and forget about it and had been successful until last night, when it had called to him a second time, perhaps because he knew Adachi was coming back to reclaim it. In the darkness of his bedroom he had lie awake abusing himself with the violence of it. He hadn't even cleaned it out afterward, although he doubted Adachi would notice. The kid probably never cleaned it himself.

"Heh, thanks, Dojima-san. That's great of you to uh... pack up all of my dirty stuff and bring it home with you. I'm sure that took a lot." Adachi trailed off, his eyes wide. Hah. Wow. He had forgotten about all of that. All of those toys, all of those magazines that had kept him occupied on long, lonely nights... and Dojima had found each and every one of them, carefully packed them away in a box and brought them into his own home to stash away until Adachi got out. What a guy...

"It was nothing."

"No way ~ You didn't have to do that. I could have bought new stuff," Adachi said. He leaned in close to Dojima, staring him in the eyes with a sly grin. "You didn't take any of them out for a test run, did ya, Dojima-san? I don't mind if you did--Just curious if those old bones still get a chill of excitement ever so often."

Dojima was at a loss. Had Adachi somehow read his mind? He headed to the fridge, his back to Adachi, so that he could hide his flustered expression while grabbing a beer. "I've never needed toys," he lied, "There was a lot of surprising stuff in there. You're better at keeping secrets than most criminals. I never imagined you'd have such unconventional tastes. But I guess that's me making a judgement of the Adachi I thought I knew. There's a lot of stuff about the real Adachi I don't know..."

Adachi wanted to say that Dojima had absolutely no idea what kind of _stuff_ he was into. Magazines could only appeal to so many of his real interests before they fell short. They were BDSM mags mostly, full of stories of fantasized abuse, photos of men in various positions of painful desire. There were a few darker ones, a few magazine that depicted far more brutal scenes like fictional rape, blood and bruises, young actors in tears. He wondered if it frightened Dojima, or if Dojima had gotten off to the idea of acting out such stories himself, maybe even with Adachi. Was Dojima strictly into women? But no, Dojima was such a _good_ guy. That sort of thing probably didn't thrill him like it did Adachi. Or maybe Dojima had some secrets of his own? "I'd be willing to bet that you know a lot more about me than you did before. Did you look at the magazines?" he asked, unwilling to let Dojima avoid the conversation. He ducked in to reach around Dojima for a beer of his own.

"Maybe you let me knock you around for perverted reasons. That's what I think. Which is fine, as long as you know where to draw the line," Dojima said, "Just don't let Nanako find that shit, or I'll make you wish you'd stayed back in prison." He cleared his throat. Wished he had a cigarette. Ran a hand through his hair.

"I would never, Dojima-san!" Adachi gasped.

Dojima opened his beer and moved into the living room, flopping down on the sofa. Adachi trailed after him like a puppy at his heels. Only a couple of hours together, and they were already falling back into their old roles. When Adachi settled in beside him, Dojima was struck by the urge to tell him about the fleshlight. He couldn't understand why. Was he determined to make himself look like a huge pervert? "Some of the toys in there... do you... use them on girlfriends?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of flat beer. No. What he really wondered was did Adachi penetrate himself with them? This topic of conversation had his blood rushing. He had to take several deep breaths to calm himself.

"You realize that men can gain pleasure from being penetrated too, right?" Adachi laughed, "Even the kind who prefer to be with women. I mean, surely you don't think that those _toys_ you're referring to can only be used on women. No, you couldn't be that naive. You're a grown ass man, after all."

"Damn, Adachi," Dojima said, shaking his head, "You really are a freak."

"You know, Dojima-san... if you wanted to play with my toys, I'd let you. Or you could play with me, instead."

Dojima choked on his beer. He turned to face Adachi, who was just looking at him with the most pleasant and normal smile, as if he hadn't suggested something ridiculous. 

"Come on, Dojima-san. At this point I feel like I'm beating a dead horse!" Adachi said, and he scooted in closer, pressing his body up against Dojima's and nuzzling into his neck, "Hit me. Smack me around a little. No. Not a little. A lot. In fact, give me a black eye. Bust my lip. I really deserve it, don't you think? I mean, you used to slap me when I did a shitty job washing your car, so I can only imagine the kind of beating I need for all the really bad stuff I did."

"So you weren't joking around. You're serious. You want me to hit you?" Dojima muttered. He lifted a hand to try and push Adachi off of him, but Adachi was clinging to him tight, his slender legs snaking around Dojima's.

"Ah, I would never joke around about something like this, Dojima-san~" Adachi purred, and he grabbed Dojima's hand as it tried to shove him away. He brought that hand to his own throat, pinning Dojima's grip there. "Come on. We're two lonely men. You like taking your temper out on such an innocent little guy, don't you? Because it keeps you from taking it out on Nanako -"

" _I would never_ \- " 

"And I mean, if it's not me, then it's your hand. I think we both know which one you'd prefer to use."

"What is wrong with you?" Dojima was scowling at him now, and Adachi just beamed back at him. He tried to close Dojima's grip tighter around his throat, but Dojima just jerked his hand away and rose up off the couch. His face had transformed. He no longer looked like the happy, gentle Dojima who had visited him so frequently in prison. No, this was the old Dojima, the one who drank too much and who had no mercy for Adachi's _innocent_ little fuck ups. It was still too soon for Adachi to tell if his plan was working or if he was just pushing Dojima away, but Adachi kept smiling all the same. 

"I don't know. A lot of things? Nothing? Now, where should we start? There's no need to hold back. I can definitely take it." He stood up, too, letting his unopened can of beer drop on the couch cushions. His hands went to his belt, sliding the fake leather out of the loops. Once he pulled the belt loose, his pants dropped to the floor, and he held the belt out to Dojima - an offering. "If you aren't sure where to start, you can use this."

"Adachi, _no._ "

"That's fine," Adachi said, letting the belt slide from his fingers to the tatami, "You're more of a hands-on guy. I get it."

Adachi lunged at Dojima with his fist clenched and a wild grin splitting his face. 

Dojima punched him in the face. He had no choice. It was self-defense, really. Adachi was coming at him, and he certainly wasn't going to just stand there and take the hit. 

Adachi gasped out with the impact, his cheek exploding with pain. He staggered backwards, his hands clutched to his throbbing jaw, and he looked up at Dojima with his smile never faltering. "Ooh, Dojima-san... I can taste a little blood."

Dojima looked down at his fist in horror. He couldn't believe he had allowed Adachi to manipulate him into this. He was disappointed with himself and furious with Adachi, but also... Well, there was no doubt he felt a jolt of arousal the moment his knuckles had met Adachi's face. 

Adachi surged up and smashed their lips together, his fingers sinking into Dojima's scalp. Dojima stumbled backwards, the shock nearly making his legs give out beneath him. He hadn't kissed anyone since his wife had died, hadn't even thought of kissing anyone, but Adachi's mouth against his own had ignited something long-dormant inside of him. For the first time in so many years, he felt _alive._ There was nothing of the timid, clumsy man Dojima knew. Adachi's tongue was aggressive and vicious, and Dojima felt he almost had to kiss him back just to keep from choking. He could taste the metallic tang of blood on the other man's mouth, and it didn't disgust him. It only made him want to take this further. 

Dojima slammed his fist into Adachi's gut. His waiting mouth caught the air as it burst from Adachi's lungs. Wheezing and gripping his stomach, Adachi sunk to his knees on the floor. He looked up at Dojima, and even though his face was twisted with pain, his eyes said _yes._ This was the best kind of pleasure. Better than hugs and kisses and - FUCK. It was better than _everything._ "Dojima-san... don't hold back," he groaned, and he reached out for Dojima's fly, eager to open the other man's pants and watch him grow harder with every strike.

Dojima's leg swung out, kicking Adachi away from him. Adachi cried out and fell to his side, clutching at his ribs where Dojima's foot had slammed into his bones. Dojima turned his half-drunk can of beer upside-down over Adachi's head, watching the foam roll down his hair and shoulders. Adachi didn't so much as wince. His eyes were barely blinking, blazing with lust as he stared up at Dojima from the floor. "Is this really what you wanted all this time?" Dojima asked. 

"Well," Adachi said, trying to pull himself back up onto his hands and knees, "It's not _all_ I wanted."

"Well then what do you want? This is _your_ psychopath fantasy, Adachi. You're going to have to enlighten me."

"I want you to break me, Dojima-san," Adachi sighed, his expression dreamy.

"You really want to be bedridden on your first day out of prison?" Dojima teased him. 

"Dojima-san, don't be silly. Of course I do. That's how you know the sex was _really, really good._ "

Dojima narrowed his eyes at Adachi and bent to grab his tie, jerking him closer. "Is everyone so easily manipulated, Adachi, or is it just me?"

Adachi thought he was grinning, but he couldn't feel half of his face, so there was no way to be sure. "Depends on who you ask, I guess, sir. I think it may just be you." He leaned up to steal a quick kiss.

As soon as Adachi's lips touched his, Dojima gave a jerk of the tie. Adachi wheezed as the fabric constricted around his throat, and he stared up at Dojima with hungry, eager eyes. Dojima wrapped the tie around his fist, winding it tighter and tighter, until he could see Adachi's Adam's apple struggle around the knot as he tried to take in breaths. He kept expecting Adachi to ask him to stop, or to try and pull the tie away, or to break free and gasp for air, but Adachi just let his face go pink and his eyes go glassy without so much as squirming. 

"You really are fucked up," Dojima said. He let go of Adachi's tie, and before Adachi could even inhale, Dojima kicked him in the stomach. He felt the impact up his leg, up his hip, all the way to his cock, which was half-hard already for reasons he couldn't begin to understand.

Adachi yelped and fell onto the floor. He clutched his throbbing gut, heaving for breath. For a moment, Dojima thought maybe the young man had enough of this, but then he gazed up at Dojima out of the corners of his eyes. He looked dangerous, even in the fetal position on the floor like that. "Mm, that _hurt,_ Dojima-san. I think.. heh... you're getting the hang of this. Were you always secretly getting off when you knocked me around before?"

"You keep talking about _before,"_ Dojima said, "but I was never hitting you like this - "

"I know. What a shame," Adachi sighed.

"- I mean, yeah, maybe I got pissed and lashed out, but it was never... well, especially now that I know you were doing that shit on purpose..."

"Dojima-san, you don't have to make excuses to me. I know that it's hard to come to terms with, but we were _made for each other_." Adachi uncurled from his ball. His face was already swelling from Dojima's first punch, but still he was smiling as he got on his knees and pushed something into Dojima's hand. Dojima looked down. It was the end of Adachi's belt.

Adachi saw the hesitation in his face. He crawled in close to Dojima and nuzzled his bruised cheek against the erection tenting against Dojima's pants. "Or if you want, we can just go back to the life we had before. Where you drink yourself to death and I help Nanako-chan with her homework, and we all pretend we don't notice you're an alcoholic. But it won't be long before I fuck up your laundry and all your pent up anger finally explodes."

"I've been drinking less - "

"I'm _sure_ you have been, sir."

There was a _snap_ so loud it filled the whole room. It took Dojima a second to realize that it was the sound of the cheap cardboard belt cracking across flesh. He surprised even himself. His hand had almost moved out of instinct. He hadn't had a good angle, the belt coming down across just one of Adachi's thighs, but it had left a stripe that was already turning pink and swelling. Adachi whimpered, one of his hands reaching to rub at his forming welt, while the other slid between his legs to rub at himself over his underwear. 

"Good job, Dojima-san," Adachi purred, "Now hurry up and make me cry so you can _fuck me already._ "

He slipped out of his clothes, layer by layer. Dojima watched, not moving, just hypnotized by the hellfire that blazed in Adachi's eyes. They remained locked on him, and it seemed they never even blinked. He wondered how he had never noticed Adachi's eyes before. Had he been so skilled at hiding his true self that even his eyes - said to be windows of the soul - had been a part of his mask? Or had Dojima just been completely oblivious before? Once Adachi was undressed, he leaned over the kotatsu and turned to grin wickedly up at Dojima over his shoulder.

"Hurt me again... Hit me... Beat me... Make me your bitch, Dojima-san. Do to me things you'd never, ever do to your _wife_..." Adachi snarled.

Dojima stared down at Adachi writhing on the kotatsu. That crazed, hungry expression on the younger man's face was beautiful - if he had a camera he would have photographed it to remember forever. He raised the belt, feeling almost out of control of his own motions, and he struck Adachi across the thighs. The impact traveled up the belt to his arm, and it made his cock throb in anticipation. Adachi hissed with pain and propped himself up onto his elbows, his fingertips gripping the edge of the table. He was waiting for more.

"Ha... its a real shame... if I look beat up at all... Nanako-chan is going to... be concerned, you know. Maybe she'll... tend to my wounds for me, huh? Having no idea... that her father is the one who gave them to me... or that I _enjoyed_ it. Hah... hahahahaa." Perhaps he was taunting him. Asking for it. Wanting to push his buttons. He felt... _starved_.

Dojima eyed Adachi's bare skin, wondering where to strike next. He wasn't really concerned about Adachi's words; he'd seen the man lying on the floor and coloring with his daughter. There was no doubt in his mind that Adachi was merely mocking him, and in spite of all the new things he new about Adachi, he still felt his old friend would never pull his little girl into this game of his. This game of _theirs_ now, he supposed. He slapped the belt down across Adachi's back, smiling at the _pop_ and the way Adachi jerked and yelped.

"D-dammit," Adachi whimpered and looked back at him with that predator's grin, "That hurts... ha... You're better at this than I thought you'd be. H-haha... I think you're more of a sadist than you realize, D... Dojima-san." The skin of his back felt on fire. His knees felt weak and he was unsure if he'd be able to take as much of this as he had imagined.

Dojima gave a smile crazed enough to match Adachi's own and stepped back, raising the belt over his shoulder. It hissed like a whip through the air as it came down and cracked across Adachi’s ass. Adachi cringed and ground his teeth together in pain, reaching back and rubbing his hand over his skin. The tears were welling up in his eyes now. It was so soon! But he was determined not to shed a single one just yet. 

"Had enough?" Dojima asked.

"Nnngh, no. No. Please, punish me, _sir_... Hahaha... hah."

There was no point in holding back at this point. Dojima struck him across the ass again, then again and again and again just wearing his arm out and hearing all the snaps of belt-on-flesh. Each time, his cock got tighter and harder, throbbing against his pants with the rhythm of his whipping. Adachi bit into his bottom lip, cringing and groaning and sobbing with each blow. His nails clawed at the kotastu beneath him, and it seemed he would tear right through the wood. Surely he was bleeding? He couldn't tell. His skin no longer hurt; his whole body was just a mess of agony. He couldn't tell where the pain ended and his arousal began. He was trembling, twitching, aching. And with every strike, he could feel himself getting harder, until his precum was smearing all over the kotatsu.

"FUCK!" he yelped and slammed his fist into the tabletop, "Fuck... fuck..."

Dojima stopped, panting for breath through clenched teeth, and admired his work. Adachi's ass was completely pink, swollen stripes zigzagging across his back and ass, and there was some areas that were already turning into yellow-green bruises. But it wasn't enough. He spread Adachi's legs wider. Adachi wiggled his ass back for Dojima, twisting around to smile up at him. Dojima could see that he was near tears. He could also see that his cock was dribbling fluids all over the furniture. 

"What the hell. You're really into this, aren't you?" he asked.

Adachi licked his lips. 

Dojima repositioned himself, then brought the belt down against Adachi's balls.

The pain was so powerful that Adachi almost thought he was about to vomit. He was sure he had screamed, but he hadn't been able to hear himself, because in that instant all of his senses had whited-out. That smack to his balls had really pushed him over the edge, and the tears began to flood down his cheeks. But pain only made everything so, so sweet.  
  
"F-ffff... Nnnghhh... You wanna fuck me...?" he panted and reached back to rub his fingers over his ass, dipping a fingertip into his eager, pulsing hole.

Even though it made no sense, Dojima did want to. He was rock-hard, and the sight splayed out before him was like something from a porno. It should have freaked him out and disgusted him, but instead he just unzipped his pants and finally let his aching erection free. Adachi looked back, eager to take in the vision of him exposed like that, but, to his dismay, Dojima had turned and was walking out of the room. 

"D-Dojima-san?" he whined, "where are you going?" But Dojima wasn't going anywhere. He had just crossed into the kitchen and was digging through Adachi's boxes of belongings. Adachi squirmed with excitement. What toy would Dojima be bringing to play with? He was crippled by pain and could barely lift his head up off his own arms, but he was eager to see what Dojima had in mind. How much more could he take? Dojima returned to him, not with a toy, but with his old, half-used, and probably expired bottle of lubricant. Adachi rolled his eyes. He'd belted him across the balls, but he didn't think he could handle a little rough sex without lube? "You always have to be the _responsible one."_ A year ago, he would have laughed at who ever suggested he would be doing this with him. All he had wanted to do was making Dojima's life a living hell... and instead, there he was, spread wide for him like a whore.

Dojima dumped the bottle's contents over his cock, and the stuff oozed cold and slick down his shaft. He wiped his sticky hands in Adachi's hair, then gripped his scalp and shoved him face-down into the kotatsu. He pushed inside, all the way inside so that his hips slapped against Adachi's skin. Adachi sucked in his breath through his teeth. The thin, sensitive channel of his ass felt as though it had been torn from Dojimas erratic, rough thrust. "FUCK!" he shouted and bit into his own arm, "Fuck... Oohh, ha... If I leave this room walking, you won't have done your job..." Honestly, even at that moment he wasn't certain that he'd be able to move for much longer. It _hurt,_ but it was a good hurt, a welcomed hurt.

Dojima laughed. He would gladly break Adachi; keeping the bastard bedridden was practically a public service. Adachi's back arched, and Dojima ran his hands up Adachi's spine, relishing his bruising, swelling skin and the ridges of his spine against his fingertips. He hadn't been this close to another person since his wife had died, and the moment felt surreal. He slid back out of Adachi, focusing on every inch of tight heat, and then he thrust back in, so hard that the younger man's body slammed back down against the table. 

Adachi drooled across the kotatsu, out of his mind with bliss. One second, Dojima was inside of him, the next he was out and all he could feel was pain, pain, pain, pain. But then, Dojima was inside of him again and all felt right with the world. He _loved_ it. "Fuckkkk... Fuck me, fuck me... Nnggh, _sir_ , you've really gotten the--haa... hang of all of this, haven't you?"

"I'm going to fucking tear you apart," Dojima growled.

"Then do it!" Adachi shouted, throwing his ass back into the rolls of Dojima's hips. The pressure and the pleasure and the pain were all molding together and making him dizzy under their spell. Being ripped apart sounded _so_ nice. Never being the same... Having to limp out of there the next day... Beaten, battered and bruised... Heaven. "Nnn, tear me apart... tear me apart, Dojima-sannn... Mmmngh, you're the boss, riiight? You're on top, riiight? Ooh, show me who is on top, Dojima-sann... Boss..."

Dojima pulled back, and it amused him how instantaneously his cock was pining to be inside again. "I'm the boss," he said, "Of course I'm on top. You wanna be on top Adachi? You think you could handle it?" He fingers felt around for the abandoned belt on the floor and once he'd found it, he unleashed his sexual frustration in the form of countless strikes against Adachi's already reddened skin. Adachi howled with each lash, his face a wet mess of snot and tears and drool. He was actually relieved when Dojima grabbed his hips and slammed back into him, fucking him so hard that he was seeing stars. He bit down on his lip until the flesh split, and he got a mouthful of that familiar, coppery tang.

"Mmmngh, ooh, be careful what you say." Adachi groaned, wiping the blood from his lip, staring up at Dojima with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Be careful, Dojima-sannnn--haa... You never know... what could happen when you least... expect it..."

"Mmm... I'm _really_ scared, Adachi," Dojima growled. He leaned in against Adachi, wrapping his arms around the other man's throat to pull him closer, feeling Adachi's abused flesh feverishly hot against his belly. It was stupid, because he knew the kind of person Adachi was now, but he couldn't help but think the man felt so small and weak beneath him like that. It made Dojima feel powerful. This was a man who had been dangerous, a monster, but Dojima had him spread eagle on his kotatsu and was fucking moan after moan from him. For the first time all day, Adachi didn't have any scathing comments or playful words. He couldn't speak, could hardly breathe for the raw, shattered sounds spilling out of him. Dojima pushed his face into Adachi's hair, his mouth next to his ear, and Adachi could hear nothing but his ragged breaths with each piercing thrust. 

In that moment, it really did feel like this was the culmination of something that had been building up between them. He thought that he could fall in love with this side of Dojima- although maybe that was just the imminent orgasm talking? 

"S-shit--haa... Dojima-san, I'm going to diiie--haa..." Adachi's release was so close, he could feel the burning beginning of it in the pit of his groin, rising through his broken balls like a molten tide.

"One day I'm gonna fuck that smile right off your face," Dojima snarled at him, his skin slick with sweat as his thrusting became more erratic and vigorous. His cock dragged against something that pulled a sob out of Adachi, and Adachi came apart right there on the kotatsu, spilling semen across the very surface where Nanako did her homework, where the family ate dinner, where Adachi and Dojima had shared so many drunken nights. He clawed across the wood as he came, and the tears flowed and wouldn't stop. He was in heaven and in hell. It was more than he could stand.

If it had gone on for even a minute more, he thought he might have really died, but the contractions of his muscles squeezed Dojima into a frenzy. The older man blew his load only seconds later, pounding Adachi into the table to plant each spurt as deep as he could. Adachi sobbed, feeling the warm fluid flooding his insides. Now that his pleasure had peaked and ebbed, his nerves felt frayed and damaged from all the pain. Even the press of the kotatsu into his stomach seemed too sensitive. He was relieved with Dojima finally stopped and pulled out, causing a trickle of cum down his thighs. 

There was a moment of quiet, where Adachi lay there panting and Dojima stuffed himself back into his pants. He noticed rust-colored smears across his shirt. Blood? Yes, beads of blood were forming out of the worst of Adachi's welts, and they had stained his shirt while he had been bent over the other man. He also realized that, even though Adachi was still grinning like an imbecile, he was being oddly silent. Perhaps they had taken this too far? Perhaps he was really hurting? 

"You okay?" Dojima asked, and he crouched beside Adachi to examine his whipped back. 

Adachi beamed up at him, his pupils blown out and his face badly bruised. "I'm perfect, Dojima-san. Better than ever. I couldn't have imagined a better welcome home."

"Crazy bastard," Dojima muttered, shaking his head. 

Dojima could not count all the times that Adachi had dragged his stumbling drunken ass home from a bar, guided him to his room, helped him change out of his work clothes and got him safely into his futon. It was rare for a week to pass without them repeating that same routine. For the first time, Dojima was able to return the favor. He helped Adachi to the bathroom and had Adachi sit on a stool so that he could rinse off his back under warm water, dabbing at the wounds with a washcloth. Adachi hissed with every touch to his skin. 

"Such a _dad_ , Dojima-san," he said, and Dojima could tell that even though he was smiling still there was pain in his eyes, "I bet you get off on this part, too. Pervert."

"Shut up, Adachi," Dojima snapped at him, "What do your freak magazines say to do for this kind of stuff?"

"Ah-- ha, you have aloe vera?"

It took some digging to find the old bottle under the sink, but he squeezed a massive dollop into his palm and rubbed the stuff all over Adachi's back and thighs. Adachi trembled, visibly straining to conceal his pain, and Dojima decided not to draw attention to it and embarrass him. "Nanako was really looking forward to having dinner with you after school today," Dojima said, "She'll be disappointed."

"Why? Heh. You think I can't go all of a sudden?"

"You can't go like this."

"Don't be stupid, Dojima-san," Adachi said, twisting on the stool to face him, "I'm fine! I wanted this! We'll just tell her the other prisoners gave me a going-away gift of a good beating."

"That's not going to work every time," Dojima muttered, wiping the excess aloe from his palms onto his shirt, since it would have to be washed anyway. 

"Every time?" Adachi repeated, snatching Dojima by the tie, "So you admit you want to do this to me again? You think poor little Tohru hasn't had enough? You're a _monster,_ sir."

Dojima smiled, and it was every bit as wicked as Adachi's was. "Well, _someone's_ got to keep you in line."


End file.
